


Broken

by Sally M (sallymn)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen, S1, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-13
Updated: 2009-12-13
Packaged: 2017-10-04 09:30:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sallymn/pseuds/Sally%20M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vila's mourning...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken

**Broken**

****

Well, it finally happened. It's lying here in my hand, in three thin, twisted, faded silvery-blue bits.

****

It broke. It can't be repaired. And I'm _not_ going to cry.

****

To be honest - something I don't do unless I have to, I know - I've been expecting it to go for months now. I don't even use it anymore. I've got new, better ones I picked up here and there, usually from someone who thought they were as good a thief as me; and of course, I make my own as well, just the way I want them.

****

But I still carried that old lockpick with me, maybe for luck, I don't know. After all, it was my very first, made by Not-Uncle Sikes in the thieves' kitchen under the Delta Dome when I was, oh, about six and still being trained. He wasn't much good as a thief - kept getting caught - or a fighter - kept getting beaten - but everyone knew he made the best tools around, it was the only reason Ma Chrissemasse, who ran the place, let him keep coming back after prison. He was making this set for one of the older boys, really fancy and high-tech for the time, and all from stuff the boys brought Ma.

****

And I saw it. The smallest, lightest, plainest lockpick in the set, made of bright silvery-blue plasteel and not as long as one of his fingers. I saw it, I wanted it - and two days later I took it, when his back was turned, and hid it in one of the lower tunnels, in a crack in the ducting. Oh, Sikes missed it all right, and he and Ma searched the place - and us - and threatened to do something awful to whoever took it, but that night the thieves' kitchen got raided... and Sikes got arrested. Again.

****

I've always remembered that day as a milestone, you know. My first _real_ theft - my first arrest - my first lockpick. Ma would've been killed me, if she'd ever found out. Would've been proud of me, too.

****

I've had it ever since. I've used it to get out of Federation prisons, crime kings' cages, lower Dome passages, spaceships, bank vaults, cells on spaceships and even luxury bordellos (honestly, I had reason). To break into safes, more bank vaults, planet flyers, private houses and public museums, and even a chastity belt or two. And I kept it for luck, to remind me who I really am.

****

I didn't want to use it today, but the lock on that damn bunker door wouldn't budge. Not for all the computerised gadgets and electronic keys and fancy picks that I had - not even for the tiny, hundred-credit ones Avon keeps in his shoe. And Blake was out cold, and the way we came in was blocked, and that damn bomb was going to go off, and the teleport bracelets weren't damn well _working_ this far under a shielded bunker... and I _meant _it when I told Blake there wasn't a lock I can't pick if I was scared enough. And I was scared enough now, believe me.

****

As a last resort, I got out the old tools, the ones I kept in my shirt pocket, the ones that I never used anymore. I picked up that old lockpick, worn and fragile like a fake antique blade, I held it like it was a carnival jewel... maybe I even caressed it like something I loved. In fact I must have...

****

Because it broke in my hand before it even touched the lock.

****

And _then_ the teleport bracelets decided to buzz and beep into life.

****

I'm not going to cry. We're safe, and it's broken, and it'll never be repaired...

****

But I'll keep it still.

****

For luck.

**

  
**\- the end -**   


**


End file.
